


(Un)dressing

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dressing wounds, Drinking & Talking, F/F, First Kiss, Force Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Canon, Rey Needs A Hug, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: She'd retracted her visor to see what she was doing, revealing bright, green-amber eyes, though Rey still hadn't seen her without her helmet.But even Zorii's eyes were enough to make her weak at the knees.
Relationships: Zorii Bliss/Rey
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14
Collections: Fic In A Box





	(Un)dressing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/gifts).



Rey hissed, inhaling sharply as Zorii dabbed at her shoulder with a rag soaked in alcohol. It wasn't exactly standard medical practice, but the Resistance's medics were understaffed, overworked, and supplies had begun to dwindle, while the number of wounded returning from the battle over Exegol had not.

"This doesn't seem any better than last time I changed the dressing," Zorii muttered, her mask distorting her voice. She'd retracted her visor to see what she was doing, revealing bright, green-amber eyes, though Rey still hadn't seen her without her helmet. But even Zorii's eyes were enough to make her weak at the knees.

They hadn't festered, but Rey knew her wounds weren't healing as they ought to be. She also knew why, but she wasn't about to stop what she was doing, especially not with bacta and other vital supplies running as low as they were. She'd known that using the Force to heal their injured would take its toll on her - had known even before Exegol, with the serpent on Pasaana, when she'd concealed the wound that opened beneath her tunic.

"I've always been a slow healer," she said, "I'll be fine." She _would_ heal. Eventually. There was no reason for Zorii or anyone else to worry.

"Sometimes I wonder if you know your own limits," Zorii said, "we all need to take a step back sometimes." That was when Rey began to wonder if Zorii might know more than she let on. She suspected Finn might have had an inkling, too, perhaps even sensing when she used the Force, but he and Poe were tied down by the burdens of leadership - everything from coordinating missions to snuffing out any remnants of the First Order to personally contacting the loved ones of those that had fallen in battle. Poe took it incredibly hard whenever they lost a fighter, especially after what had happened during the ill-advised mutiny. Rey certainly didn't envy their positions right now.

"I'll keep it in mind. So...Poe said you might be sticking around," she said, suppressing a shiver as Zorii's gloved fingers trailed over healthy, freckled skin.

"Maybe. It's not like I can go back home." Rey's chest felt tight as she recalled the sudden emptiness she'd felt when one of the Sith Eternal's Star Destroyers had obliterated Zorii's home. She had mourned Babu Frik, the droidsmith who'd helped them, before finding out that he escaped with Zorii, and wondered whether there were Anzellans elsewhere in the galaxy. If not, Zorii might have been one of the only ones able to keep his people's language alive and that particular thought struck her as unbearably sad. The annihilation of Kijimi and its inhabitants was just too big for her to comprehend. She knew that this was only a fraction of the pain that Zorii must have felt at losing so much. She had lived among those people, worked with them, known them, loved them.

And then they were gone.

While Zorii's helmet hid most of her reactions, Rey could still read the tension in her body language (her form-fitting, maroon flight suit didn't conceal much in the way of expression), and when she removed her visor, her eyes told Rey more than enough. This time when Zorii offered her flask, she accepted, wincing as she took a sip.

"That's _foul."_

"What did you expect? It's for cleaning wounds. Still tastes better than that shit your pilots drink though." The creases at the corners of her eyes told Rey she was grinning. The look in her eyes told her she was still grieving.

"I've got something better in my bunk if you feel like coming by later. We don't _just_ have to hang out while I'm changing your bandages." Rey laughed, despite the alcohol's vile aftertaste.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" She couldn't think of a single reason. But for now, there were more people in the camp that needed her help. _Or maybe it's that_ you _think you need to help_ _them_ _all on your own,_ she could almost hear Leia's ghost whisper in her ear, though she sincerely hoped there were better things to do in the afterlife than follow her around. Perhaps this imaginary Leia had a point. Perhaps Zorii did. Everyone needed time to recharge. But the thing was, though, that all the people being carried in on stretchers, or wheeled in on gurneys...they didn't _have_ time.

And what was a still-fresh plasma burn, compared to a _life?_

After rummaging around beneath her bed, Zorii pulled out a bottle and a couple of small, wooden cups, handing one to Rey.

"It's called skordu," she said, as she poured. "It was popular back home. Brewed by the Dai Bendu monks, evidently, back when the Monastery was, well, a monastery. It's funny, I was never so interested in history until, well…" Rey took a sip from her cup while Zorii searched for words that didn't come. The drink was hot going down her throat, and pleasantly warm in her belly - she could see why it would have been popular on an icy planet like Kijimi - and it didn't taste bad. Zorii's drink remained untouched, and she hadn't yet taken off her helmet, which couldn't be particularly comfortable any time after noon in the Klosslands. 

"It means a lot that you're sharing it with me."

"No point in just keeping it," Zorii shrugged, but there was something in her voice that was at odds with the casual gesture, audible even through the muffled distortion of her helmet.

"I don't just mean the drink-"

"I know," she said briskly, keen to change the subject. "How's your shoulder?"

"Fine," Rey said, just as quickly. Zorii cocked her head in a manner that suggested she was extremely unconvinced. "I mean, pretty much the same as when you saw it this morning."

"Show me." Zorii took her helmet off in one smooth motion and, even drenched with sweat with her dark hair plastered to her head, Rey believed she'd have done pretty much anything she asked of her. She blamed those slightly crooked lips, the high cheekbones, and the booze. And most of all her eyes. Even _Poe_ found it difficult to say no to those eyes, and after all this time.

Resigned, Rey sat down beside Zorii on the bed, and allowed her to unwrap and unpeel the various layers covering her shoulder. It was in a bad state, after she'd pushed herself even harder today, but, to her credit, Zorii didn't startle at the sight of it. Another painful reminder that she'd seen worse, been through worse, probably before the First Order had occupied Kijimi, but especially after. And then, after Rey had shown up…

"I'm sorry," she said, knowing it would never be enough, and Zorii just looked at her with those sad green-amber eyes, "I'm sorry for-"

"-for not taking care of yourself?" Zorii cut in, "or for being alive?" Rey closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. If only letting go of the guilt was that easy. "You...can talk to me, when you're ready. Believe it or not, I do know a bit about what you're feeling."

"I believe it." Zorii had lost her entire homeworld and so many people, yet right then it was the comforting weight of _her_ hand on _Rey's_ shoulder. She turned to look at Zorii, her gaze resting on her pretty, crooked lips, and kissed her.

And when Zorii leaned into the kiss, Rey thought that maybe she could get used to living after all.


End file.
